He owns a bartender's stool and the kind of treatment he gives that thing gives the impression that it is his favorite seat. He is seated on it looking like he is in a trance. His leather seat set cost him a whooping 400000 Kenyan shillings but he prefers this stool a thousand times over. I am not nosy, well I am nosy but that's not relevant here. So he asked me to take him seat shopping and that day is still vivid as day in my mind because I left work at noon and spent the rest of the afternoon with him.Wandering.
He likes his whiskey neat and austere and each time he holds that glass I can't help but wonder why the Jack Daniel distillery doesn't know his name. Like he brewed it and watched it mature. The whiskey is setting in and his big bewitching eyes look even sexier.
Ps : I have no idea what brewing entails but I have been to Keroche Breweries before and the only thing I remember from that little rendezvous is the fulfilling sight of seeing one of my friends pour himself a glass of beer from a tank 😁😁😁. You can't make that shit up!
Joe is a good looking man.There's no debate about that.He is a a typical African man with a hoarse voice and an awesome masculine physique.His skin being the highlight of his entire being.Black. If only skin would be served on a platter and munched like a bar of Belgian chocolate...
He dresses like he lives in Italy and he cooks like his mother. Neither of us can explain what it is that we have going on but it's a good thing. The mind probably doesn't like it but the heart is all in...with Both feet.
It's hump day, midweek to be precise .He set up karaoke mwitu and positioned himself on his bartender stool like an audition judge. He made a playlist of our favorite songs and made a little dance floor in his living room.He is a fine liver that one.Where did you drop down from?
Three hours later my phone rings, my husband is calling.
Hubs: Pretty woman, where are you?
Me :Imma be home soon
Hubs: That doesn't answer my question hun.
Me :I know dear, but I'll be home soon.
Hubs : I'm worried about you babes
Me : okay
And before he can say anything else I hang up. By the time I'm placing my cell on the table, Joe is standing right behind me, holding my waist like his life depends on it and the first words that come out of his mouth are;
"Atis, don't go"
I am speechless, confused.
By now the music has died down and it's just our voices and the sound of us breathing that's audible. Joe loves serenity, and I think that explains his choice of residence. His three bedroomed house is the last on the block with a bedroom balcony that overlooks the Tenai river.No, the rays of the Sun don't wake him up, the beautiful sound of water splashing against the river bank does. He has an antique chandelier positioned right at the center of his living room that speaks to you before anything else in that house does.I digress.
So for the next 30 or so minutes he doesn't says anything other than "Don't go" I feel haunted (allow me to use that word)
I have a husband who loves me beyond the moon and then there's Joe and all his splendor. Do awesome people actually know that they are awesome?Are they aware? I wonder.Just like we have the Ministry of Education and that of environment, I think it's about time we added the Ministry of Awesomeness to that list and Joe should be the chief whip...oh sorry, Cabinet Secretary.
"Ok" I say with utmost certainty.
Both our phones off, we spend the rest of the evening cuddling and listening to acoustic jazz.
7.30 AM, Thursday morning
